Truth or Consequences
by J0
Summary: When Olivia gets a better offer and breaks her dinner plans with Elliot, his quiet night alone becomes something he never bargained for. FINAL CHAPTER POSTED.
1. A Change in Plans

**Disclaimer:** All characters property of Dick Wolf and whoever else owns a piece of this series. This story is written for fun and not for profit.

**Author's note:** This isn't really my first SVU fic, but it is my first completed one. I am working on another, much longer story that has an actual case to solve and shows the whole squad in action, but this little fantasy came to me in the middle of that story and it wouldn't go away, so I just had to write it down. I realize Elliot's behavior is a bit out of character for him, and this story doesn't quite jive with the series after the episode "Taboo", but I think I have created a scenario where a willing reader can find it believable. Enjoy, and please review.

**Truth or Consequences**

**Chapter One: A Change in Plans**

It was almost six in the evening, in the middle of January, and a sad, frigid rain was falling and freezing on the streets of New York. Fortunately, the SVU detectives were finishing up their shift in a warm, dry squad room because the weather was so foul even the city's creeps and perverts had decided to take it easy for a day or two.

"Benson, Special Victims," Olivia briskly answered her phone, hoping it wasn't a new case. "Oh, uh, hi . . . Uh, ok . . . Actually, Elliot and I have dinner plans."

She looked across the desk at her partner, but he was so intent on the report he was typing that he didn't know he was being discussed.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" she asked her caller, knowing Elliot was oblivious to her conversation. "I really don't know if that's wise . . . Uh, all right. I'll see what I can do, but don't say I didn't warn you . . . Yeah, I will . . . Bye."

She put the handset in the cradle, rested her chin on her folded hands, and looked thoughtfully at her partner. It was perhaps a minute before he realized she was watching him, but eventually he looked up and met her gaze.

"What?"

"That was . . . Richard," she began awkwardly and then stopped.

Elliot frowned, wondering why she seemed unwilling to tell him about the call. "Yeah? So, your boyfriend called you at work. Big deal."

"He had a dinner meeting," she said. "The client canceled because of the weather, but . . ."

"But he still has the reservations," Elliot finished with a grin, seeing where the conversation was going. He was grateful to her for not wanting to disappoint him, but naturally disappointed that he would not be enjoying her company this evening. Still . . .

"Nice place?"

"One if by Land, Two if by Sea," she smiled slightly.

"Oh, man!" he said in shock. "You know, somewhere I read that's New York's favorite place to propose."

"Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up, Cupid," Olivia said cynically. "I told him we had plans."

Leaning forward, he admonished her gently, "Liv you can't leave the guy sitting alone in a place like that. Even the busboy will feel sorry for him. Now, get outta here!"

He tried hard to sound enthusiastic for her, but inside, he was dreading spending the evening alone, dining alone, going home and then to bed, alone. He must have laid it on a little too thick though, because she frowned at him and asked, "You wanna join us?"

"Hah!" he laughed sarcastically. "Now that's funny. You, your boyfriend, and me having a romantic dinner at a place like One if by Land." He shook his head vigorously. "I don't think so!"

"We could have a drink at the bar beforehand," she suggested.

"A pity cocktail?" he asked with a raised brow.

"To assuage my guilt for canceling on you," she explained.

He shook his head again. "Nah, we can always reschedule. I'm gonna finish up here. You go home and make yourself beautiful for Richard."

"Oh, no," she argued. "I leave when you leave, and what do you mean _make_ myself beautiful?" she finished in a teasingly offended tone.

"Hey, Liv, you're always gorgeous," he told her, putting his hands up in a posture to indicate that he wasn't looking for an argument, "but if you think you're going to wear your work clothes to a place like One if by Land, you better think again."

She looked down at her attire and then up at him and sighed. "You're right," she said. "I do need to go home and change, so you better get typing."

"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Well, the reservations are for seven thirty, and I am not leaving you here," she said. "I know how you are. If I go without you, you'll work all night to avoid going home, grab a couple of hours in the rack, put on a fresh shirt, have a donut for breakfast, and pretend you're ready to tackle the world in the morning."

He shrugged, "Yeah, so?"

She folded her hands on her blotter and leaned across the desk to speak to him in a low tone. "So, I don't need a partner who's dead on his feet backing me up."

He sighed, knowing she was right. He genuinely appreciated the way she had been looking after him in the year since Kathy had left, making sure he got out of the office at a reasonable hour whenever possible, forcing him to have some kind of social life, even if it was just a drink with the squad at McGinty's after work. He owed it to her to take care of himself.

"Ok, let's finish up, then," he said, trying to act casual. "Then you'll go to dinner, and I'll go . . . home." He wasn't a good enough actor to sound pleased with the prospect of spending another evening in the empty house alone.

"All right," she agreed, "and if you don't have plans, we'll go out to dinner on Friday."

He gave her a grateful smile and a nod and went back to his report.


	2. The Unexpected Visitor

**Chapter Two: The Unexpected Visitor**

Elliot groaned as he turned onto his street and saw Kathy's station wagon parked in front of the house. He knew she'd been coming back periodically over the past year to collect stuff that she and the kids had wanted. At first, it had just been practical items, clothes, school supplies, things like that. Then it had been more personal belongings, Lizzie's dolls, Dickie's baseball glove, and it had made him sad that her scavenging was turning his home into an empty, sterile house. At least before, she had always managed to come and go while he was at work, the nosy neighbor delighting in informing him that, 'Yer wife came by again. Left with a couple of boxes of stuff.' Why did she have to be here tonight?

He considered cruising past the house, coming back later when she was gone, but as he drew closer, he decided he was tired and there was no way in hell she was going to drive him from his own home now that she'd left him there alone. Besides, with the amount of ice frozen on the streets, traveling any farther than necessary would be foolish and irresponsible. His heart sank as he realized that, at the very least, he had to invite her to spend the night for her own safety. After a moment's hesitation, he parked the car and got out, slamming the door a little harder than necessary, and climbed up the steps deciding as he went that chivalry was dead and he wouldn't be trading his bed for the couch just so she could be comfortable. He was about to put his key in the lock when the doorknob started turning.

"Hello," she greeted him casually.

"Uhhh . . . h-hi," he managed to stammer.

Kathy looked phenomenal in a slinky gold, off-the-shoulder, knee-length dress that showed off all her best features, her slender neck, the creamy white skin of her shoulders, her sexy legs, and her luscious curves. God, how he loved her curves! She got them from bearing him four beautiful children, and just knowing that made her the sexiest woman in the world in his eyes.

"Wha-," he cleared his throat and took a moment to catch his breath. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I, uh . . . I needed to talk to you," she replied uneasily.

She wore her dark blonde hair loose in a thick cascade over her left shoulder, a little longer than it had been the last time he had seen her, and the pearl and diamond earrings and pendant he had given her for, God, had it been their tenth wedding anniversary? He didn't remember which one, but he had felt so proud taking her out to Scarentino's. It had been the first time he'd had the money to buy her something nice that he knew she wanted, but more important than that, she was with him. Without wanting to, he let his glance flit to where her left hand rested on the doorframe and he felt his heart start to pound when he realized she still wore her all-important wedding ring.

Of course, she could just be waiting for him to sign the divorce papers. His excitement suddenly squashed, he squeezed past her into the house and said brusquely, "So, talk."

He heard her surprised little puff of air, but just kept walking toward the kitchen. He needed time to read the situation and figure out how he was going to play it. Because of his job, he saw little enough of his kids as it was, and there was no way he was going to let her screw him with some custody agreement that restricted when, where, and how often he could visit them. If that's what she was up to, she could go right straight to hell, but then, he really didn't think she would use the children to hurt him that way. She was too good of a mother for that. So, if that wasn't her agenda, what was?

"What is this?" he asked in surprise upon seeing the table set for dinner for two.

Kathy had laid out a rich, cream-colored, Irish linen tablecloth that one of her immigrant ancestors had brought over on the boat and usually only used on holidays. On it she'd set their good china, the silver her parents had given them for their wedding gift, and the candlesticks they had chosen together as their gift to each other on their first anniversary. He remembered wanting a camcorder, but agreeing to the candlesticks because all he really wanted was to make her happy.

"I thought we could talk over dinner," she replied. "When's the last time you ate a decent meal anyway? You look like you've lost some weight."

"The last time someone was home to cook it," he jibed, giving her the same grin he used when he knew a suspect was guilty but he had to pretend to be a friend in order to get a confession. "And yeah, about twelve pounds."

He heard her sigh and knew he was trying her patience, but he couldn't help himself. He was pissed off at her for leaving, for taking the kids, for stealing away bit by bit all the little things that had made his house a home, and for being here now, looking like that, reminding him of what he had lost.

"Well, why don't you go freshen up, and I'll finish making the salad and start cooking the steaks?"

"Baked potatoes on the side?" he asked, folding his arms and leaning against the counter.

She nodded.

"Tiramisu for dessert?"

"Yeah."

"My favorite meal," he observed. "What do you want?" He was working her like a perp, but he didn't care. He just wanted to know what was going on.

She looked down, bit her lip uncertainly, looked up, and said, "I want to talk. No pressure, no animosity, just . . . conversation."

It would have been so easy for Elliot to be mean, to deliberately say something to hurt her. Lord knew she'd hurt him enough. Then again, she'd only left because he'd become impossible to live with. How much had that hurt both of them? Of course, who wouldn't be difficult with her forever nagging him about the hours he worked, pestering him to spend more time with her and the kids, more time at home, bugging him about his relationship with his partner. She knew when she married him that he wanted to be a detective. She should have been able to handle the strain.

He shook his head. It didn't really matter who had started it, the important thing now was that they both continue behaving like adults for the children's sake.

Nodding, he moved off in the direction of the stairs. "I think there's a bottle of red wine in one of the cupboards."

"I found it already," she said. "It's chilling in the fridge."

As he showered, Elliot contemplated what he wanted to wear. Kathy was dressed to kill, ready for an elegant dinner or a seduction scene. He couldn't deny that at first sight, she had taken his breath away, and he was sure she had noticed his reaction. He wondered if she wanted him as much as he still wanted her.

There was a dark blue suit hanging in his closet, not quite navy, but even he knew it played up his eyes beautifully, and he knew how much she loved his eyes. She'd made him buy it a few years ago when she'd had to get a bridesmaid's dress to be in an old friend's wedding upstate. They'd left the kids with her mom, and once they'd gotten back to the hotel room after the reception, the suit had stayed on him about thirty seconds longer than she had stayed in her dress. Last time he'd worn it, it had been a little snug, but since he _had_ lost some weight, whatever she was planning, that suit would help level the playing field


	3. Fine Dining

**Chapter Three: Fine Dining **

"Wow! You look great!" Kathy commented when Elliot presented himself at the dinner table, clean-shaven and dressed to the nines.

"What, this old rag?" he joked. "My personal stylist picked it out for me."

"Well, she has great taste," Kathy replied, and they laughed together.

For a moment, it felt really good, but then when the laughter died, the silence quickly became awkward.

"I, uh, I haven't signed the divorce papers yet," he said uncomfortably, unable to keep from scratching the side of his neck in a nervous gesture he knew she knew well. "I haven't had time to read them."

She shook her head. "That's not why I'm here," she told him. "Open the wine, then sit down and eat your salad."

Willing to play along a little longer, he went around the table and held Kathy's chair for her. Then he opened the wine and took his seat. He poured himself a little of the dry red, tasted it, and declaring it good, filled first her glass and then his own.

"So, what_ are_ you doing here?" Elliot asked as casually as he could.

"Like I said, I want to talk to you."

"About what?" He took a bite of his salad, both to prevent himself from babbling and to force Kathy to say something to fill the silence.

"Just . . . things," she said. "I wanted to see how you're doing, make sure you're ok."

"This salad is great," he complimented, neither willing to assuage her guilt by saying he was fine nor to give her the satisfaction of admitting he missed her and had been miserable without her. "Where did you get such good tomatoes this time of year?" He took a mouthful of wine.

"A little produce shop that opened up this summer about a block from Mom's," she replied. "How's the arm?"

He nearly choked trying not to spray his wine all over the table in surprise. He swallowed, coughed lightly, took a breath.

"It aches," he said. "Especially when it rains. How do you know about that? I told Liv not to call you."

"She didn't have to, El," Kathy explained. "It was in the papers. Three children gunned down by a sniper on the playground of a Manhattan elementary school. It had SVU written all over it, and as a high profile case, Don Cragen would have wanted his best people working it. That means you.

"When the courthouse shooting made the news, I figured you wouldn't let anyone call me if you were hurt, so, I went to the closest hospital, told them I had been notified that my husband was one of the wounded officers, gave them my name, and they directed me to your room."

He narrowed his eyes at her, pressed his lips into a thin line. "Why didn't you visit?"

"I did. You were sleeping and you looked like you needed the rest. Why didn't you call me?"

"Because you're divorcing me, Kath," he said.

"I still care about you," she told him sincerely.

He pushed his tongue into his cheek, thought about what he wanted to say, leaned back in his chair, and sighed. "Physical therapy was a bitch," he admitted. "Now I can tell when there's a change in the weather coming the day before the guy on channel nine knows."

They were quiet for a minute, each of them studying the other, taking stock of the situation, until finally, he spoke.

"Look, I don't know what you want from me, Kath. I couldn't figure it out when we were together, and . . . I sure as hell don't know what I'm doing now," he said shaking his head regretfully. "I'd just gotten the divorce papers in the mail. I thought you wanted me out of your life."

His voice faded to a whisper on the last few words, and he cleared his throat and sniffed slightly. His gaze drifted to a spot on the tablecloth and he sat still.

After a minute or so of silence, Kathy reached out and placed her hand over his.

"That's what I thought, too," she said. "You're a hard man to love, Elliot, because you keep . . . so much inside."

She began to struggle with her emotions, but she had things she needed to tell him, and if she stopped now, she might not be able to finish.

"You won't let me help you . . . won't let me comfort you . . . You won't even tell me what's wrong. When you hurt, I hurt, Elliot, and Honey, . . . you were hurting all the time."

She had begun to tear up now, and her voice was choked. She needed to stop for a moment to compose herself.

"Kathy, my job . . . " Elliot tried to explain himself in the silence.

"I _don't_ want to hear about your job!" she snapped.

Not knowing what else to say, he fell silent, went back to staring at the tablecloth, and waited for her to continue. It took a minute or so, but eventually she dabbed the tears from the corners of her eyes and began again.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know it's not just an excuse. I know there are good reasons you don't want to talk about your job with me, not the least of which is the nature of the crimes you deal with, but really, the things that bother me most have nothing to do with your work."

She stopped again, and when the silence became oppressive, Elliot asked, gently this time, "Why are you here, Kath?"

She took a deep, shaky breath, sat up a little straighter, and said, "When I thought you'd been shot, and then when I saw you there in the hospital, so pale . . ." Her voice was shaking again already, and she paused for another breath.

"A year apart hasn't changed how much I love you," she said, "and there's no reason to think a divorce would either."

That got Elliot's attention, and his head snapped up. He watched her expectantly, as she prepared to make an important statement.

"I want you to throw the papers away and forget that you ever saw them," she said. "I want us to try again."

Very slowly, a grin spread across his handsome face, his blue eyes started to twinkle, and to her amusement and his embarrassment, he blushed.

"You mean that?" he asked in a tone that suggested he couldn't believe his ears.

She sniffled and nodded. "Yes."

"You really mean that?" The delight and amazement were plain in his voice.

She giggled, thrilled that he was so happy. "Yes, I really mean that."

"Oh, Baby," he said, standing up. He moved around the table, pulled her chair out for her, took her hands in his, helped her to a standing position, and engulfed her in an enormous hug. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, he inhaled her scent, kissed her on the neck, behind the ear, passionately on the mouth, tasting her lips again for the first time in too long.

Holding her at arm's length, he looked at her with tears of joy in his eyes and a grin he couldn't suppress, and said, "I'm ready to really work on it now, Kath. I have made a lot of changes for the better, and . . . and . . . well, you won't regret it."

He swept her into his arms again, lifting her off her feet this time, and spun her around, laughing in delight.

"Elliot, stop!" she gasped, laughing along with him. "Put me down!"

He stopped spinning and nuzzled her neck.

"The steaks are getting cold," she advised him.

"To hell with the steaks," he said and began to move out of the room, carrying her like a groom would his new bride.

"Elliot, I spent a fortune on them," she told him, "and I put a lot of time into planning this dinner. Let's not let it go to waste. Take it slow. We'll have a nice meal, and then, well, whatever happens, happens, ok?"

He knew now was not the time to tell her that, with the sudden realization that he was getting a second chance, his body had skipped dinner and dessert and was going straight for the after dinner entertainment. He also knew enough about the differences between men and women to realize that she wouldn't be into it if he didn't give her the time she needed.

Reluctantly, he put her down. "All right, dinner first," he agreed, "but if you're thinking 'and a movie' well, it had better be one hell of a good movie."

"Actually, a movie is not what I had in mind," she told him in a sultry voice that caused a certain warmth to spread through him and made his knees go weak.

They talked through dinner, mostly about the kids and a little about work, more hers than his, though there had been a couple of funny things that had happened that he had felt comfortable sharing. He had been pleased to hear that Maureen, always his little overachiever, had made Dean's List again with a 4.0 GPA and that Kathleen, who had barely scraped by in algebra, was passing trigonometry with a high C and had been voted captain of her soccer team. Dickie and Lizzie, now in middle school, were playing organized sports for the first time, and were struggling a bit with managing their studies and practice, but Kathy was sure they would figure it out.

As they chatted their way through the main course and finished off the wine, they warmed to each other's company. By the time they were ready for the tiramisu, Elliot had moved to sit beside Kathy and they were waxing nostalgic about the early years of their marriage.

Money had been tight in the beginning, because for a while, both of them had been out of work, and later, even with both of them working all the overtime they could manage, they'd had to borrow from her parents a couple of times just to keep the lights on and the water running. They had each done without a lot in the first few years to make sure their girls, for at the time they had only Maureen and Kathleen, never had to. Nothing had been easy for them, except for loving each other and the kids, but they had been so focused on supporting one another, so totally committed to raising happy, healthy children and providing them with a stable, loving home, that neither of them had noticed how hard they were working.

Then the twins had come along, Kathleen and Maureen had grown up a little, Elliot and Kathy had advanced in their careers. With more responsibilities at work and home, they had struggled for a while to make time for each other. Sometimes, their jobs had come before family, especially for Elliot after he made detective and was expected to put in however many hours were needed to close a case. Eventually, although they both continued doing their best for the children, they had lost their connection to each other and become two strangers who happened to live in the same house.

"You know, if we're going to do this, we have to do it right," Elliot said with a sigh. "For the kids' sake, we either have to be together or not. If we do some half-assed on-again, off-again thing, we'll mess them up for life."

"You're right," Kathy agreed, "that's why I told them and Mom that I was going to the movies with one of my girlfriends, and when the weather turned bad, I called and told her I was staying the night because it wasn't safe to drive. I figured we could keep this under wraps for a while, make sure we can actually do it. That way, if it doesn't work, no one will ever know and no one will ever be blamed. Maybe we could date for a while like we did when we were kids, to sort of get to know the people we've become."

"One problem with that," Elliot said, seriously.

Kathy frowned. "What?"

"I sold the Camaro twenty years ago," he teased.

She gave him a wry smile. "Ha, ha. Seriously, what do you think?"

He considered her suggestion for a moment and decided it sounded like fun, and fun was something their marriage had been lacking for a long time. "No pressure," he thought aloud, "just time together."

"Right," Kathy confirmed, "time to get back together."

"I think that sounds like a good idea." He spooned the last of his dessert from the dish and generously offered it to her.

She giggled and opened wide. "Mmmmm," she sighed as he pulled the spoon from her lips. She looked at him for a moment, and the way he was watching her, she knew he was still deeply in love.

The last of the heavenly dessert had already melted in her mouth, but the taste still lingered. Reaching up with one hand, she gently pulled him toward her for a kiss.

As his lips met hers, Elliot pushed his tongue into her mouth, savoring the bittersweet taste of the tiramisu along with the distinctive taste of her. She moved closer, and he felt her knee rub against his inner thigh. His body responded and he was helpless to prevent it. He was certain that she knew what she was doing to him. He moved forward in his seat, placed his hands under her thighs, and as she wrapped one hand around his neck and rubbed the other across his chest, he lifted her, turned, and boosted her up onto the table. This time, her knee rubbed against his fly.

"Mmmmmmmmm," he moaned into her mouth, deepening the kiss, as he pushed her back and threaded his fingers through her hair. Her hand traveled down his chest, clutched at his belt, pulled him closer, and her foot, mysteriously shoeless now, rubbed the back of his leg. She arched her body against him, and his hand began stroking her thigh, slowly making its way up under her skirt.

Suddenly, her hand was on his chest again, pushing him away this time. "Mmmm, El," she sighed, breaking the kiss, and then immediately gave him another little peck on the lips. "Wait. Slow down," she admonished him even as she stole kisses between her own words.

If he hadn't been a gentleman, he might have ignored her, knowing that, whatever she had in mind, her body craved it as much as his did. "But, Kathy . . . " He couldn't keep the yearning out of his voice.

"Shhh, it's all right," she whispered breathlessly. "We'll get there . . . in due time . . . but tonight, I have a plan."

"Whatever . . . happened . . . to spontaneity?" he asked between kisses.

She giggled, straightened her arms to keep him at bay, and said sternly, "We'll have to schedule that another night."

For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was his heavy breathing as he labored to bring it under control. Then, once he had gained some semblance of restraint, he asked, "So now what?"

"Help me clear the table," she said.

He gave her a mischievous wink and a grin and asked, "What do you think I was trying to do?"

He was rewarded with a giggle, and she said, "Shame on you!"

Once the candles were out and the dishes were in the sink, she took him by the hand and led him to the living room without a word between them. Tapping a button, she started the stereo, and when she turned to him, he knew just what to do. Holding her close but touching her lightly, he moved with her in time to the slow music.

"I've missed your touch," she confessed, "your smell, the sound of your voice, even your stubble against my cheek first thing in the morning."

"I know how you feel," he replied. "I still haven't slept through the night without you. I turn over and you're not there, and I wake up feeling cold and wondering where you've gone."

His voice cracked and rose in register as he spoke, and the pain she heard brought tears to her eyes. It was the first time in years he had willingly let her see him suffering, the first time in so long he had let her see him needing her instead of trying to shelter her from his pain.

"Can we really do this, El?" she asked nervously. "Can we take this risk? What if it doesn't work?"

"It will work, Sweetheart," he whispered, desperately wanting to encourage her. "I know it will because now we both know how miserable we will be if it doesn't."

She nodded, finding an odd sort of strength in his words, and as the last song ended, she took his hand again and led him upstairs.


	4. The Rules

**Author's note:** Special thanks to all who have expressed their enthusiasm for this plot. I have to admit, I was a little nervous about posting because I have seen so may EO stories garnering much-deserved praise. I was genuinely concerned about getting flamed. I hope this chapter and the nextdon't go too far afield for your tastes. -JO

**Chapter Four: The Rules**

When they got to the bedroom, it was already aglow with warm, golden candlelight. For a split second, Elliot's mind flashed on an image of the house burning down, but then he dismissed it. He knew he tended to be hyper-vigilant and was prone to overreacting. He also knew Kathy would have taken every necessary precaution to prevent any mishaps. As she turned toward him and loosened his tie, he took a deep breath and deliberately returned himself to the moment, determined not to let his worrywart nature ruin the evening.

Slowly, they undressed each other, doing a sinuous lover's dance of kisses and touches, gasps and whispered words, sighs and longing looks as they peeled away the layers of clothing and the layers of barriers that had grown between them. He sat on the foot of the bed and drew her toward him. She pushed him back on the mattress and knelt astride his narrow hips. With kisses and caresses, she encouraged him to slide up until he was in the center of the bed, and then she lay atop him, her naked body pressed against the length of his, her breasts to his chest, their legs entwined.

"Would you like to play a game?" she asked breathlessly, and put her hands down to her sides to interlace her fingers with his.

"A game?" he gasped in confusion as she moved against him. "You mean like chess?"

"Mmm . . . I think it will be a lot more fun than that," she teased, bringing their arms above their heads, "but the strategy might be similar."

"I suppose . . . I could give it . . . a try." He panted his words between kisses because her weight made it difficult for him to catch his breath. "What is it called?"

"Truth or Consequences," she said, running her hands up and down his arms, gently massaging his rock-hard muscles.

"Hmmm," he thought a moment as he kissed her deeply. "Tell me the rules."

"Well, the first one is absolutely the most important," she murmured, still caressing his arms. "You have to trust me."

"Done," he said confidently. "I have no problem with that."

"Even though I left you?" she asked a bit surprised that he had so easily acceded to her first demand.

"You left . . . " He kissed her.

" . . . because I drove you away . . . " He turned his head to nibble her neck and chuckled when she moaned with pleasure.

". . . by shutting you out," he explained to show that he did understand where things had gone wrong.

"You didn't do it to hurt me . . . " he gasped, still having to work to breathe. "You did it . . . to protect . . . yourself."

She sat up and slid up his body so that she was straddling his ribs, and though he could breathe easier, now, he missed the warmth of her skin all over his own flesh.

"I can't blame you for that, Kath," he finished easily, now that his lungs could fully expand. "I know you'd never betray me."

She sighed in relief and ran her hands up his arms once more to massage his palms with her thumbs. "Good," she said, "because I am really going to test you tonight."

He heard the ratcheting sound as the cold metal rings clasped around his wrists, and he jumped reflexively. He pulled against them and discovered he was fastened to the headboard. He struggled with his bonds, his breath coming fast and shallow, and only the knowledge that his wife was there and would never hurt him kept him from going into a full-blown panic.

She remained astride him and smothered him with kisses and caresses, talking to him the whole time until finally, he was calm and capable of coherent speech again.

"Kath? What . . . Why?"

"A measure of trust," she said, caressing his face, giving him tiny kisses on his cheek, neck, forehead, and the tender skin on the inside of his biceps. "Are you ok to go on?"

He bit his lip, carefully considering his response, and then replied, "I think so, but no more surprises, ok?"

"No," she promised him. "No more surprises." She continued lightly stroking his arms and naked torso until she heard him sigh in relief and felt him relax under her touch.

"So, what are the rest of the rules of this game?" he finally asked.

"It's easy to play," she said, tracing circles on his chest with her fingertips. "There are only four more rules. One, I get to ask you ten questions, plus follow-ups. Two, you answer them truthfully and immediately or you suffer the consequences, and 'I don't know' is not an answer. Three, you can pass on any one question, but then you have to answer the rest, and four, you can stop the game any time just by saying so."

While rules three and four certainly made him more willing to play, rules one and two left him a little nervous. "H-how many follow up questions do you get?" he asked.

"As many as it takes, I suppose," Kathy replied with a teasing smile as she leaned forward to rub noses with him Eskimo style. She had thought this evening through carefully and knew that would scare him, but, if she let him talk her down to one or two, he might be willing to play. Throughout their marriage, his inability to confide in her had been a problem. He had never lied to her _per se_, and he was a good man, so she knew his secrets were nothing shameful. He just didn't want to upset her, so he never spoke of the things that were upsetting him. Over time, he had shut her out, but if she could get him to buy into the game, maybe together they could create a safe, comfortable way for him to occasionally share what was on his mind.

"As many as it takes? Oh, I don't think so!" he laughed, and she was relieved to see he was getting into the spirit things. "You wouldn't have to use any strategy at all. How about one follow up question?"

"Four," she countered.

"Two!" he offered.

"Done!" she could tell by his expression that he'd expected her to insist on three. "I'd suggest we shake on it . . . but I know you're a little tied up at the moment."

He unconsciously tugged at the handcuffs and grimaced. "What are these for anyway, and what kind of consequences did you have in mind?"

"Lie to me, and you'll find out," she taunted, rubbing circles on his nipples with her thumbs.

"No, seriously, Kath . . .Ohh!" He tried to squirm away from her. He loved what she was doing to him, but he wasn't used to giving away control, and it made him uneasy and overly sensitive.

She saw the anxiety in his eyes and knew she had teased as much as she dared. "I won't hurt you, and I won't embarrass you," she promised, laying her hand over his heart and feeling it pound beneath the skin. "You have my word. No one else will ever know about this, and you might even find you enjoy the consequences, but you won't know what they are until you get caught in a lie."

"What do you mean, 'until' I get caught. Don't you mean 'unless'?"

She seemed thoughtful for a moment and then said, "Nah, I mean 'until.' I have at least one question you won't be able to answer honestly."

"Oh, come on, Kath. Do you really think you can make me lie to you?"

"Oh, I can't _make_ you do anything, Elliot, but you won't be able to stop yourself."

"I don't believe you."

"Wait and see."

The conversation was clearly going nowhere, so he decided to shift gears again. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.

She decided to be honest with her motives. "I want to help you find a way to talk to me," she said. "If we can't talk, our marriage really is over. I'm hoping that, in the context of a game, you might be able to open up to me a little more."

"Where did you get that idea?"

For a long time, she just sat there with her hand on his chest, waiting for the pounding to slow. When it finally did, she scooted back until she felt his arousal pressing against her bottom. Then she moved her hands to his ribs, and felt them expand and contract as he breathed. It was nice to touch his skin again, to feel his vitality and warmth. She had missed him so much.

"Kath?"

She blinked, looked almost startled, and sighed. "I've been seeing a new marriage counselor since I moved out," she confessed with a wry smile. "I never expected to be gone this long. I thought, after a week or two, you'd be begging me to come home, and when you didn't I grew more and more determined that you would."

Her voice was shaking, but she kept talking as she walked her fingers up and down his sides, counting the ribs. He really had lost a little weight. Her husband had no idea yet how much she was about to ask of him, so she wanted to show him her own commitment to the process and give him an example to follow.

"I always knew I wanted to try again, El, and I was sure you'd give me that chance. The divorce papers were supposed to be just the kick in the butt you needed to make you realize how much you needed me. I never counted on you being as stubborn as I was, and I'm sorry for being so manipulative."

"It's ok," he told her. "I'm glad that's all you were doing because if you really wanted to be gone, we wouldn't be here now. And I'm sorry for being so pigheaded."

"Do you want to know why I left?" she asked.

"Kathy, I was an ass," he said bluntly. "That's reason enough."

"Maybe it is," she agreed, "but the real reason I left was that I was afraid I was going to do or say something I couldn't take back or make better. I never wanted to hurt you, but one way or another it was going to happen. I figured being apart for a while would give us a chance to fix things, but if I stayed, I was going to do something terrible that we'd never get over."

"You mean _you_ were protecting _me_?" he asked, emphasizing the irony of the situation.

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so, despite how much I resented you doing the same for me." There were a few quiet moments as she continued caressing him, gently touching him everywhere her hands could reach. Slowly he relaxed, giving himself over to her completely, and when he sighed contentedly, she asked, "So, are you game?"

"You'll stop if I ask you to?"

"Not if you just say stop," she explained. "You might just say that reflexively if you have to suffer any consequences, but if you really want to quit, tell me to 'end the game' and I will."

"Ok, so it's a safe word, then. Saying 'end the game' will do just that?"

She nodded. "Yep, that's it."

"Ok, then, I guess I'm ready to play."

She grinned and squirmed against him a little bit, loving the low moan of desire it pulled out of him. "Then let's get started!"


	5. The Game

**Chapter Five: The Game**

Kathy had thought carefully for several weeks about what she would ask if Elliot agreed to play Truth or Consequences with her. Laura, the counselor who had suggested the game, had advised her that the right mix of silly and serious, easy and hard questions was crucial to making it work. The key wasn't so much in having fun as it was in providing enough emotional time outs for them both to regroup between the heavy topics. It was just as vital that Kathy not care about the answers she got so long as Elliot was talking to her. He had to feel safe enough to say anything.

She had initially wondered how chaining her husband to the bed was going to make him more willing to talk to her. Now she saw that, just as Laura had explained, pushing that boundary and convincing him to let himself be physically vulnerable had made him more open than ever before to being emotionally vulnerable as well. It was an incredibly intimate moment, and she knew she had to tread carefully. It was her responsibility to listen to him and pay attention to his reactions because, being the quintessential tough guy, now that he had committed to playing along he probably wouldn't back out, no matter how difficult it became.

She had to shelter him and challenge him at the same time, and she knew that was going to be a tough balancing act. For that reason, she had spent two sessions with Laura over the past week whittling her list down to ten questions Elliot could answer honestly without upsetting her. Since they had started the game, she had added one more, but she would have to see how things went before she threw it into the mix.

After their heavy discussion about her reasons for leaving, it seemed best to start with something silly.

Moving to lie beside him, propped up on one elbow so she could watch his face, she hummed thoughtfully to herself and ran her nails lightly up and down his midline from the notch between his collarbones to his navel. Finally, when he was writhing and panting from the stimulation, she asked conversationally, "Have you bought yourself any new socks or underwear since I left?"

He laughed aloud. "What? Is that really your question?"

She nodded seriously. "Yeah. I know how you are. You'll let it go until every sock has a hole in the toe and the elastic is shot in every pair of briefs. Then you'll go a couple more weeks until you actually have time to go to a store and buy some, so, have you bought any new socks or underwear this year?"

"Yes, to both," he said shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"Boxers or briefs . . . or something sexyyyyy?" she asked, teasingly dropping her voice to a suggestive tone as she lightly scratched the patch of skin between his navel and his pubic hair because she knew how much it turned him on.

"I . . . like . . . the brand you . . . always buy me," he stammered as his body responded to her attentions, "but when I looked for the tags, they were all torn out! I didn't even know for sure what size I take."

"Well, that's your own fault," she told him, leaning forward to kiss him on the chest.

"Can I help it if the tags itch?" He shook his head. "Anyway, I wound up getting the brand Michael Jordan advertises. Hanes, I think, with no tag."

She giggled, amused by his practical solution. "Are they comfortable?"

"Yeah, now that I have the right size. The first bunch was too small." She laughed at his mortified look, and he joined her. Amused and a little embarrassed with himself, he blurted, "I'm helpless without you."

The laughter stopped abruptly and they smiled sadly at one another. She kissed him tenderly on the mouth and said, "You don't ever have to worry about that again, El. Even if we can't get back together, just call me. I'll always be there for you, ok?"

He swallowed hard, gave her a grateful look, and nodded. "Ok, you too, right?"

"Right," she agreed. After a quiet moment, she smiled at him, sat beside him, Indian-style, on her side of the bed, and said, "Question two. Have the electric and water bills gone down? I know the kids drive you crazy leaving the lights on in every room they walk through and Maureen's hour-long showers left the rest of us without hot water more times that I can count."

To her surprise, he grew serious. "The water bill has gone down some," he said. "There's really no way I could use as much water as you and the kids, but the light bill?"

When he hesitated, she asked, "What about it?"

"It's so quiet and lonely when I get home at night. I turn on all the lights, the TV, and stereo. When I go into the bedroom to change out of my suit, I turn the radio on, and when I'm fixing something to eat in the kitchen, I'll watch the TV in there."

She sensed that he wasn't finished, but was reluctant to go on, so she nudged him with another follow up question. "Does that make it easier?"

He shrugged. "Yes and no. It gives me something besides the house to listen to, but still, at night when everything is shut off, I can feel how empty it is."

"Well, it's pretty full over at Mom's, but you know what?"

"What?"

"There's still an empty place where you ought to be."

He smiled, glad that she missed him, and she kissed him tenderly. Then she moved lay atop him again, pressing her ear to his breast, listening to his heartbeat and the air filling and leaving his lungs. She loved that sound, and the hum of his voice in his chest when he spoke. He seemed relaxed and open to a real conversation, so she asked her next question from there, knowing that it was a tough one and he might find it easier to answer if she wasn't looking at him.

"Question three," she spoke quietly, "rumor has it you've come close to getting suspended a few times lately. What happened?"

Elliot held his breath, wondering what 'rumor' she had heard about his gradual meltdown over the past year. Only Olivia and Cragen knew about his seeing Dr. Rebecca Hendrix, though he was sure the rest of the squad had noticed the benefits of her help. Then again, the station was a gossip mill, and anybody there could have heard something about the various sticky situations he had gotten into. Kathy was friendly with the wives of a few of the station's uniformed officers and a couple of guys he had risen through the ranks with who were now detectives with other squads, so there was no telling what she had heard or how much of it had been true.

He debated passing this time, enjoying the feel of her hands sliding up and down his ribcage as he considered it, but this was the first hard question she had asked. It would be cowardly to duck the initial challenge. Besides, there were probably more sensitive topics to come, and he was only allowed to pass once.

"El?"

He sighed, feeling the effort it took to inhale deeply with her weight atop him, enjoying her hair tickling his shoulder as his breathing shifted her slightly, and he told her he'd had a rough year.

"First, I had a victim accuse me of . . . improper behavior," he said. "She was a troubled young woman. The charges were dropped. That was right after you left."

"You sound ok with that," she observed, skimming her hands up and down the length of his arms, brushing lightly over the tender flesh on the insides of his biceps and causing him to shiver.

"Yeah . . . it happened . . . it's over . . . everything's cool," he gasped, and wished he could bring his arms around her in an embrace.

"Good, I'm glad it didn't cause you too many problems," she said. "What else happened?"

"What makes you think there's more?" he asked, trying to sound a little wounded.

She chuckled and scattered his chest with kisses. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair. "I know you," she said. "You do what it takes to get the job done, and sometimes that means playing fast and loose with the rules."

"Yep, you know me all right," he conceded, but didn't go on from there. He had figured out that she was using her touches and caresses to keep him talking without using her follow-up questions. He was impressed with her strategy and wanted to see what she would do next.

"Sooo . . . " she said, leading him to the next incident as she put her mouth over one of his nipples and proceeded to tease him.

"Ohhhhhhhhh," he moaned, part of him wishing he hadn't waited for this, but most of him glad that he had. For several moments, words were beyond him, but slowly he adjusted to the higher level of pleasure and began to speak breathlessly again. "A couple . . . of months ago . . . I went undercover . . . without Cragen's permission."

"And . . . " She turned her head to rest it against his breastbone again and waited, her thumb now tracing circles where he mouth had been.

There was a long silence, but this time Kathy said nothing, did nothing to push him forward. She could tell that the experience had been difficult for him but that he would say more once he had his thoughts in order.

Finally, his chest rose and fell with a sigh under her ear and he said, "The guy I was after, he didn't take the bait, then later, on his own, he grabbed a girl. I managed to help her escape before he . . . did anything, but that kid was traumatized because I didn't have my suspect covered."

"Elliot, I'm sure . . . "

"Please, Kathy, don't say anything," he interrupted brusquely, not wanting her to try to make him feel better about what he had done. "You weren't there, you don't know."

She looked up at him, and despite the shame he felt, he made himself meet her gaze. "It was my mistake," he said, "my fault, and I have to live with that. So does she, but she is alive, and he is back in jail. There's some kind of justice there, and I will deal with it in time."

He could see in her eyes that she knew there was more, and he held his breath, hoping she wouldn't pursue it. He could tell her about the girl, what had happened to her was just a mistake, mostly out of his control. What the shrink had said to him about his anger problems, though, and what Ray Schenkel had said about the two of them being alike? Brothers under the skin, he had said. That had hit too close to home. He couldn't even think about it without feeling slightly ill. And there was no way in hell he was going to talk about the snarling, growling, feral animal that had come from within him when he'd finally gotten loose and almost choked the life out of Ray while making his escape. He'd scared himself with that, but buried it inside, at least for a while.

"Ok," she finally agreed, placing a tender kiss on his lips, and he couldn't help but sigh in relief. "Anything else?"

He hesitated, tensed, squirmed a bit. "Yeah."

She waited for him to continue, acutely aware of the struggle within. She knew he'd been holding back about the undercover assignment, but maybe that would make it easier for him to tell her about whatever else was troubling him now. Very deliberately, she placed one arm on the mattress on either side of him, cradling his body to hers, and she closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest again trying to simultaneously give him the emotional distance and the warm, loving support he needed to get through what he had to say.

He knew what she was doing, the look of understanding in her eyes just before she closed them had told him everything she was thinking. She wanted him to feel safe talking to her, wanted him to know that, whatever he'd done, she would always love him. He smiled slightly, wondering how he had got so lucky.

"I screwed up," he said softly. "Cragen should have suspended me. If I had been anyone else, I think he would have. I'm lucky I still have a job, Kath."

He trailed off. He knew he could tell her about Pete Breslin, but it was hard. The aftermath of that case, of what he had done, had brought up so many painful memories, forced him to confront so many feelings he had been hiding from his entire adult life. He knew he was a better man for it, and he was finally dealing with some of the issues that had driven Kathy away to begin with, but it was still so painful he didn't know if he could do it.

Kathy lay there, eyes closed, listening to her husband breathe. She could feel the tension in his frame, the rigid hardness of his muscles and knew he was struggling. The fingers of her right hand toyed with the hair under his arm. She could smell his scent mixed with the soap from his shower. She turned her head, kissed him on the collarbone, nestled her cheek back against his chest, and exhaled a thin stream of air across his nipple. "What happened, Baby?"

Her calm, encouraging tone did it for him. If she had been curious or impatient, he would have ended it right there, but she really just wanted to hear what he had to say. It didn't matter what had happened, so long as he was talking to her about it.

"You remember . . . " his voice was raspy, full of emotion. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Remember Pete Breslin? My radio car partner?"

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed against his chest.

"His son, Luke, was the perp in one of my cases." He felt her tense against him, and knew she wanted to know what the boy had done, so, instead of making her ask, he offered the information freely. "He'd been having some problems, not all of them his own fault, and he lost control and beat up a girl. At the bail hearing, Pete found out he'd been taking steroids. Luke was released into Pete's custody, and Pete took him into the men's room and beat the hell out of him."

"Oh, Elliot, is he ok?"

He nodded, feeling her hair brush his skin and wished again that he could hold her. "They both have issues they need to work out, but yeah, they're going to be ok."

"Then, how'd that get you in trouble?" she asked, never losing sight of the real topic. He smiled, realizing she had asked more than two follow-up questions, but figured it was ok because he had gotten into a lot of trouble over the past year.

"When I saw what he was doing to Luke, I . . . I beat the hell out of Pete," he confessed, his voice rising in register as his throat constricted. "I . . . um . . . I . . . I totally lost my mind."

He stopped a moment, trying to regain some composure, and Kathy looked up at him. She cupped his cheek with her hand, kissed him softly on the mouth, and said, "Shhhh, it's all right. You can tell me."

"He, um . . . " His chest was tight, voice still high and breathy. He stopped and swallowed. "He could have pressed charges, I would have gone to jail. He was down on the floor, unconscious, and I just kept hitting him and hitting him until some guys pulled me off. Oh, Kathy, I'm sorry," he gasped, overwhelmed by the shame.

"Hey, shhh, it's all right, El," she soothed him. "You're doing fine. Shhh."

She sat up and cradled his face in her hands and then ran them down his neck and chest, all the way to his waist, smoothed them up his ribs, and up the length of his arms. Stretched out over him, she entangled her fingers with his and kissed him perhaps a dozen times on the mouth, cheeks, forehead, eyelids, and hair.

He clutched her hands painfully, and his eyes kept squeezing shut like he was trying not to cry. She had never seen him so open, so vulnerable, and to her surprise, she didn't like it. He needed to be strong for her, and, as much as she wanted him to confide in her, she had never wanted to take that façade of strength away, it was too much a part of who he was. He deserved to have some part of himself that he kept to himself, and she needed him to have that. Pulling one hand free, she reached over to the nightstand for the key to the cuffs. When she couldn't manage to grasp it, she moved off him to stand by the bed.

"Kath?" he gasped, and opened his eyes to look for her. She saw fear, shame, and confusion, along with a myriad of other emotions, and she knew she had let him down. She hadn't expected this particular question to be so difficult for him, but she never should have let things go this far. She could tell he was dangerously close to giving up something he would rather hold back.

"Shhh, it's all right," she told him again. "I'm here." She unlocked the cuffs, frowning at the red marks they had left around his wrists, and climbed back in bed beside him.

As soon as Kathy lay down, Elliot put his arms around her, buried his face in the curve of her neck, and inhaled her scent. It was enormously comforting to be able to hold her and to feel her holding him, to feel her hands rubbing slow circles on his back. All of the anxiety and tension just flowed out of him, and with a few deep breaths, he was in possession of his faculties again.

He sniffled once or twice, and then moved so that he could look Kathy in the eye. Giving her a lopsided, slightly embarrassed smile, he said, "I, uh, I'm sorry about that."

She smiled back, caressed his cheek. "It's ok, you have nothing to apologize for."

They lay close together, each of them breathing the other's air, and the intimacy gave him the courage to say more. "I . . . I can't talk anymore about what happened," he told her, "but it made me start seeing a shrink."

He noted her raised eyebrow, but was gratified that she didn't seem disappointed in him.

"I don't have a standing appointment or anything like that," he explained hastily, "but when I start feeling bad, I talk to her, and it helps. I told you earlier that I have changed, and that's part of the reason why. I, uh, I've had problems for a long time, Kath, probably since before we were married, and I just kept hiding from them."

"I know that, Elliot," she said and planted a row of little kisses on his jaw line. "Why do you think I was always trying to get you to talk to me?"

"I never meant to shut you out, Kath."

"No, but you tried so hard to keep all that misery inside."

He sighed as her hands began to knead his bottom and without really meaning to, closed his eyes and started to rub softly against her. "I still might not be able to talk to you, you know."

"As long as you're talking to someone, I don't care."

Surprised, he stopped his gentle thrusting motion and opened his eyes again. "You don't care?"

She bit her lip and shook her head. "Don't sound so shocked. You're not the only one who has changed in the past year. The counselor I've been seeing, works primarily with the families of service men and women, police, firefighters, and other public servants in dangerous jobs. She helped me understand that there are things about your job that you really _shouldn't _want to tell me. I want to know that you're taking care of yourself, but I don't need the details anymore."

He scooted just a little bit closer, wrapped his arms just a little bit tighter around her, so he could press the entire length of his body against hers. He had always wanted them to be close like this, and now he wanted them to be closer. He wished there were some way he could draw her into himself and have her right there with him, under his skin, all the time. Of course, there was a way for him to give her a little bit of himself, and that would be almost as good.

"So," he asked a little cautiously, "do you have another question?"

"Huh?"

"I think you were on number four," he reminded her.

"You mean you still want to play?" she couldn't help sounding shocked and a little excited.

"I want to try," he said, "if you have some more fun questions, and maybe a couple more serious ones, but no more handcuffs, my wrists hurt and my arms ache."

"Ok, no more cuffs," she agreed, and after a thoughtful pause, added playfully, "but I want you to lay on your hands to reduce the temptation to try to resist any consequences."

"What makes you think I'm gonna have to face your consequences?" he asked.

She grinned. "I told you, I know I have one question you won't be able to help lying about."

"So you say," he told her, interlacing his fingers behind his back and laying down on them, "but I think you're wrong."

She had him bend his knees and place his feet flat on the mattress, and then she positioned herself between his legs. For a few minutes, she alternated between caressing his muscular thighs and touching him in places that made him whimper and squirm. When he had a glazed look in his eyes, she asked him her next question, another silly one.

"How many loads of laundry did you ruin before you figured out how to do it right?"

He grimaced at the oddball query and said, "None. I know how to do laundry. I washed all my own clothes when I was in the Marines."

"Yeah," she agreed, "but everything was green."

"It was not," he argued as she sat with her hands resting on his knees, "and anyway, who do you think did all the washing my first two months out of the Corps when you were working days and I was unemployed?"

"Ohhh, you mean when all my undies turned pink?" she teased. "That was you?"

"That was one load," he told her defensively, "and I told you a red sock had stuck to the inside of the washer and I didn't get it out."

"Uh-huh. Ok. I believe you." It wasn't the height of sincerity, but neither of them really cared.

Kathy smiled, Elliot blew her a kiss, she kissed the inside of his knee and began stroking his inner thigh. Gradually, she worked her hand higher and higher until if she went any further, she wouldn't be touching his thigh anymore. If the motion of his hips and the state of his arousal were any indication, he was quite enjoying himself. He was totally relaxed taking whatever pleasure she cared to give him, and with his head thrown back and his eyes closed, he was humming tunelessly to himself. She almost laughed aloud as she thought about the reaction her next question was about to produce. After a few more minutes of intimate touching, she spoke.

"So, do you think about sleeping with Olivia often?"

"What? No! Never! Jeeze, Kathy, she's my partner!" The lie fell from his lips almost too easily, probably because he'd been planning to use it for the seven years since he'd met the beautiful woman who had become one of the most able partners he'd ever had.

When he saw Kathy's knowing smile, his heart started to pound. She had predicted he would lie to at least one of her questions, and she had been right. Worse, he could tell from her expression that she knew this was the one.

So why wasn't she mad?

She gently straightened his legs, placing one on either side of her. Leaning forward, she kissed him tenderly on the mouth, then she lay on top of him once more and blew in his ear. Maybe she didn't know after all. He allowed himself to breathe again, which was no easy task with his wife's weight compressing his chest.

"You know what?" she whispered in his ear.

"What?" he breathed back, almost believing she was going to say how happy she was to know she was the only woman he thought about that way.

"I really think a lie like that deserves some consequences," she purred and slithered down his body until she was kneeling on his legs, pinning them just above the knees.

"What? No! Kath, wait!" He was much stronger and could have easily fought her off, but that would have been cheating. "How do you know I'm lying?"

He didn't think her grin could get any broader when she said, "For starters, you just asked the wrong question. If you were truly innocent, you would have asked what makes me _think_ you're lying."

She was stroking his skin again, making it hard for him to concentrate on the conversation, but he did manage to string together a single coherent thought. "Don't play games with words, Kath."

"I'm not, El. I just know you. She's a stunning woman, and you are a healthy, virile man. There would be something wrong with you if you spent that much time working with her and _didn't _fantasize about her once in a while. As a matter of fact, if I was wired that way, _I'd_ think of sleeping with her."

For a flash of a moment, he felt incredibly aroused by the thought of seeing his wife and his partner, the two women he loved most in the world, together, then he remembered where he was and what was about to happen. He watched her, wondering what kind of consequences she had in mind, wishing he'd placed some kind of restriction on what he'd have to endure and for how long. As her hands worked their way delicately up his inner thighs, he began to get an inkling of what was coming.

"Look, Kath, I don't know what you think you're going to do to me," he wasn't ready to beg, yet, but he'd certainly try to reason with her, "but she's my partner, I don't . . . Aaaugh! Ahhh! Ha, ha, ha! Oh, stop it. Kath! Aack! That tickles! Ho, ho, ho! Please, stop!"

He laughed and giggled uncontrollably, hating the girlish sounds she elicited from him, but he was unable to control himself. She was the only person in the world who knew where his ticklish spot was because no one else had ever had the occasion to touch him just there on the curve of super-sensitive skin between his thigh and his pelvis. She had discovered it quite by accident when they were teenagers petting each other in the back of his car, and his reaction had been so loud and so sudden it had startled them both. Even he had not known he was ticklish until that night, and it was a secret they had both delighted in sharing.

"Kathy, oh! Ha, ha, ha! God! No! Oh, ho, ho! Please, stop!" he pleaded, his dignity forgotten. A few seconds ago, he could have pushed her off, but her torment had already reduced him to the consistency of Jello. All he could do now was beg.

"Mercy!" he gasped, hoping that would do the trick.

It did, for a moment. "Ready to fess up?" she asked, the terrible, delightful motion of her hands stopping for a moment.

"I was trying to tell you . . . I don't think of her . . . that way . . . because she's my partner, I have to work . . . with her," he said as reasonably as he could while he struggled to catch his breath.

"Liiiiiarrrr!" she taunted in a singsong voice and began tickling him again, just lightly running her fingertip along the crease in the skin at the inside of his hip joint.

"Oh! No! Ok, ok, yes! Yes, I do!"

"Often?" she demanded.

"Once . . . in a while," he confessed, still struggling for air, grinning despite himself. She had been right, he kind of liked the consequences, so long as he didn't have to endure them too often or for too long. "But only . . . like I think of . . . blowing the kids' college funds on a Harley."

"I knew it!" she crowed, then her expression suddenly changed to one of consternation.

"You 'think of blowing the kids' college funds on a Harley'?" she asked in surprise. "You mean a motorcycle?"

"Yeahhhh," he said longingly, his eyes drifting shut as he talked. "One of those big-ass touring bikes guys ride across the country when they hit their midlife crises and want to find themselves again . . . I think about what a great, uh, ride it would be, and then I realize how much it would hurt everyone I love and I forget about it again."

He opened his eyes and was surprised to find his wife grinning at him. "What?"

"A great ride?"

"What about it?"

"Olivia or the bike?"

For one second, he was mortified, and then he burst out laughing. "Yeah!"

It took about half a second for her to get his meaning, and then she flopped down beside him on the mattress and dissolved into giggles. He rolled over and pulled her into another hug, and once their laughter had dissipated, they just lay quietly together for a long time smiling at one another and remembering what it felt like to fall in love.


	6. To the Victor Go the Spoils

**Chapter Six: To the Victor Go the Spoils **

Kathy lay quietly watching her husband's thoughts flit across his face. They had been cuddled together for quite some time, and if it weren't for the constant motion of his hand rubbing circles on her back she would have thought he was dreaming. From his expressions, though, she knew he was not onlyawake but thinking hard about something.

Finally, he looked at her through his long, dark lashes and asked timidly, "What if I had said yes, and that Olivia and I had already done it?"

"I knew you wouldn't," she said simply.

"Say it or do it?" he asked.

"Both."

"How can you be so sure?"

"The man I married wouldn't do that," she said confidently.

"A lot can change in twenty years, though," he told her.

"Yeah, but not that, not you."

He had thought, more than once over the past year, that it would have been so easy with Olivia. Kathy was his wife, his high school sweetheart, the mother of his children, and though he would have laughed at the word if anyone else had used it, they were soul mates. But Olivia was his partner in so many other ways. She was so much more to him than just a beautiful woman who happened to be his friend and colleague. She cared deeply for him, as he did for her. They protected each other, and weren't afraid to argue when they disagreed. They could yell at each other when they were stressed out and then five minutes later, split the last muffin in the vending machine. She understood the job in a way Kathy never would, and she didn't need him to talk about it to share his pain on a tough case. He really did love her, and after Kathy left, it would have been so easy to seek comfort in her bed. She'd never offered, probably because she knew he wasn't strong enough to say no, but he knew in his heart, if he had asked, she wouldn't have turned him down.

"You have a lot of faith in me, Kath, maybe more than I deserve," he finally said, feeling deeply flattered.

"You've always been faithful," she said softly, "maybe more than _I _deserve."

She gave him a moment to take in what she was saying, then continued, "Elliot, I want you to know, I thought long and hard about that question before I decided to ask it. I don't mind that you think about her once in a while. Like I said, something would be wrong if you didn't, and I knew, given the circumstances, if you had, uh, pursued something with her, I would have forgiven you, if you asked. I can forgive a mistake, Elliot," she said very seriously, "but not a lie to cover it up."

He knew what she was doing, giving him one last chance to admit to a major screw up, and he was thankful that he had no confession to make. He made sure he met her gaze and held it when he answered her. "I have never done anything, Kathy, with anyone, except for you."

She nodded and smiled, her eyes glowing warm with love. "Ok."

"But, you really did consider the possibility that I might?" he asked, a little surprised that she had seriously entertained the thought.

She grinned at him and, wanting to lighten the mood, said, "Yeah, but only like you think of buying that Harley."

"Oh, ha, ha," he said sarcastically and tickled her a little. She jumped and squealed and pulled away form him.

"On your back," she ordered, "hands underneath you again."

Once he had complied, she curled up beside him and began rubbing her hand up and down his chest and stomach, caressing his skin again. When they were comfortably relaxed together, she said, "Next question. Why didn't you call me when you'd been shot?"

He looked at her and frowned. "I already told you, I thought you wanted to be rid of me."

"Right, now I want the whole truth," she said, and gently ran a finger over his ticklish spot making him jump and gasp.

"Ok, ok, I was being stubborn," he admitted, feeling strange about how easy it was to be candid about the matter. "I didn't want to appear to need you more than you needed me, and I didn't want you to come just because I needed you."

"I would have come because I love you," she said.

"I know that now, but then, well, can I just chalk it up to the pain medication?" he asked. "I didn't make a lot of really good decisions last year, and if I take full responsibility for all of them at one time, I'm gonna feel pretty stupid."

Kathy chuckled, appreciating his candor and amused by his reasoning. "Ok, pain pills it is, for now, but some day, we're going to have to really talk about it, all right?"

He hesitated a moment, but then agreed with a nod. "Just not now."

Deciding she rather liked it when she was facing him, watching him enjoy what she was doing to him, she moved to kneel between his legs again. He seemed happy to oblige, making room for her and raising his knees. She stroked his flesh, plied him with kisses, and when she ran her hands up his sides, she was surprised again by how prominent his ribs were. He really had lost weight, and it worried her.

"What have you been cooking for yourself?" she asked.

He laughed sarcastically and said, "Take off the 'what' and I can answer no."

"Elliot . . . " she began apologetically.

"Look, it's all right, Kath," he reassured her, "but when have you ever known me to cook?"

"So, what have you been eating?"

"Cereal, pasta, TV dinners. Burgers and fries are about as elaborate as I get unless I pick something up on the way home."

He didn't seem particularly concerned about his dining habits, but it made her sad. She knew he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but she could do better and wished she had been there for him.

"Oh, Elliot," she sighed.

Sensing her dismay, he sat up to face her. Gently pushing her hair out of the way, he caressed her cheek, pulled her close, and kissed her. Softly bumping his forehead to hers, he hushed her, "Shh. It's ok, Kath. You did what was best for you and the kids. Given the choice, I'd put my family first every time."

"But, Elliot . . . "

"But _nothing_," he said, quietly emphatic. "You did the right thing. You know that, don't you?"

She nodded, her mouth slightly open as if she were about to say something more. Determined to end her doubts, he kissed her deeply, and when they broke apart breathlessly, he said, "What's done is done. Let's just move on from here."

She nodded, and, in a voice husky with emotion said, "I have two questions left."

He laughed softly, surprised by her tenacity and focus. Lying back with his hands under him again, he willingly opened himself to her questions. He couldn't remember the last time it had been so easy to talk. Her game had seemed like a strange, almost kinky, idea to begin with, but he had to admit it was working for him.

"Ask away," he said.

She took her time with him, covering his body with kisses, working her way from his mouth down his neck, across both collarbones, paying special attention to his nipples when she got to his chest, and then moving down toward his navel. She didn't stop until he was moaning softly and thrusting gently against her. Then she moved to sit beside him, Indian-style.

"Oh, God! Kath, what are you trying to do to me?" he gasped, though his tone made clear how much he was enjoying himself.

She giggled slightly. "I'm just trying to help you relax," she said.

He laughed with her. "You stopped a little too soon for that."

She smiled and ran a fingernail lightly down his midline until she reached the edge of the V of dark hair between his legs. He closed his eyes, moaned and squirmed, raised his hips slightly, and moved against her. She pulled her hand away and chuckled when he gave a disappointed whimper.

"So, what's the best thing you've seen on TV lately?"

His eyes popped open in surprise. "What the hell?" he asked. "You're all over the map, you know that?"

"Part of my strategy," she said in jest. "Keep you off balance. Now, answer my question."

"You don't need to ask off the wall questions to keep me off balance, you know. You're doing a great job of that without asking any questions at all," he told her with an almost lecherous grin, then he frowned thoughtfully. "I guess the best thing I've watched lately would have to be something about _Saturday Night Live's_ greatest moments. I think it was on E! or VH1, I'm not sure."

"What did they show?"

"Oh, there were at least a hundred clips," he told her. "Everything from the Shcweddy Balls skit with Alec Baldwin to The Church Lady and the Samurai Delicatessen."

"What about The Blues Brothers?" Kathy asked, naming the famous characters with whom John Belushi and Dan Ackroyd formed a band, made several albums, and a movie.

"Oh, yeah, they were on there," he said with a laugh, "and the Hans and Franz sketch where Schwarzenegger hosted, Weekend Update, Sprockets, the Boston Teens, Roseanne Roseannadanna, Father Guido Sarducci, and the episode of Coffee Talk where Streisand shows up and surprises them."

"Why was it the best thing you've seen lately?" she asked.

He sighed, grew serious, and said with a small smile, "It made me laugh for the first time in a long time."

Kathy was quiet for several moments. Slowly, her eyes welled up with tears, and when they spilled down her cheeks, Elliot turned to free one of his hands and reached out to gently wipe them away. Then he pulled her down to him in an embrace and she curled up against him, her head resting on his chest.

"Hey, now," he whispered into her hair, "why the tears?"

She sniffled and turned her head to look up at him. "I'm trying to keep things light, and you go and say something like that."

"I didn't say it to make you sad, Kath."

"I know," she sniffed, "and that only makes it worse."

He sighed, and moved around in the bed until he was able to face her. "Look, Kath, we've both hurt each other a lot in the past couple of years. I know I'm responsible for causing most of the pain, and I can't tell you how sorry I am, there just aren't words for it. Let's agree that the past is done and plan to do better in the future. Then, I can stop feeling guilty and you can stop feeling sad, ok?"

"You mean just pretend it never happened?" she asked softly.

"No," he said patiently, knowing he had said and done things she couldn't easily forget, "I mean agree that we can forgive each other and move on."

She was lying beside him now, her head resting on his shoulder as she rubbed her fingers along his breastbone. For a long time, she was quiet, struggling to let go of so many painful moments, so many things she wanted him to own up to and apologize for, and then she started crying in earnest.

As she sobbed against his chest, Elliot soothed her and hushed her, muttering sweet nothings until her tears slackened enough for her to speak. Finally, he asked her, "Kathy, tell me what's wrong?"

"I've just realized," she gasped, still weeping softly, "I've been keeping score all this time."

"I don't understand what you mean. Keeping score?" he said.

"Of all the things you owe me apologies for," she said, "and all the things I have to tell you I'm sorry about."

"Does it really matter, as long as we treat each other better from now on?"

"NO!" she wailed, and turned away from him in embarrassment, "And that's why I feel like such an idiot, because I have been acting like it does. Elliot, how can you stand me?"

"Stand you? Kathy, I love you!"

His arm was still around her, and she interlaced her fingers with his and kissed the back of his hand. "I love you, too," she said, "and . . . I'm sorry . . . for being so petty."

He kissed her on the top of the head. "Me, too. So, can we just agree to go on from here?"

"Ok," she said in a tiny voice, and for a while, they just lay there in each other's arms again.

Elliot savored the moment cuddled up in bed with his wife. A few hours ago, he would have thought he'd never touch her again, yet here they were, spooned together like newlyweds. As she lay on her side on the extra firm mattress, the curve of her waist created a natural arch for him to slide his arm through, and when he pulled her into his embrace, she had entwined her fingers with his. With every breath, he inhaled her scent and felt her hair tickling his face, and he wished he could stay right there forever.

As Kathy lay in her husband's arms, she could feel his arousal pressing against her, and she couldn't remember ever wanting him more. Ironically, the one thing that prevented her from satisfying her venal urges was the fact that, for the first time in such a long time, he seemed happy to relax and enjoy the emotional intimacy they had found together. She felt his warm, moist breath stirring in her hair, the smooth gold of his wedding band as their fingers twined together, the hair on his body tickling her lightly with every breath, and she could keep still no longer. When she heard his low, soft moan, she knew what was going to happen.

"I have one more question," she said teasingly.

"Oh, do you?" There was humor in his tone, but also a deep longing.

"Yes, I do," she told him, serious now as she rolled over to face him.

"Then you better ask it quick," he said.

She kissed him a couple more times, drawing out the moment, and then shifted to be sure she was looking him in the eye. His behavior when they had first started the game had raised a new question in her mind, and now was her chance to ask it. None of the other answers had mattered to her as much as just getting him talking, but this one, well, she had no idea what he might say or how she would react to his reply. It was a risk she didn't have to take, she knew, because she already had a safe question prepared, but he had been so open and willing to talk, she wasn't sure she would ever get such a chance again. Taking her courage in both hands, she finally asked him.

"When we first started this game, when I put the handcuffs on you, your reaction surprised me. You were so scared. I want you to tell me why."

She felt him tense up in her arms, noticed that his breathing quickened, and he looked down to avoid her gaze.

"Elliot, you can tell me," she said, and she gently tilted his head so he was looking her in the eye again.

He closed his eyes, rolled out of her embrace, and lay on his back beside her with his arms folded over his chest.

"Elliot . . . "

"Give me a minute, will ya?"

Elliot didn't like thinking about Ray Schenkel. He'd made a lot of mistakes on that case. He still wasn't quite sure how or why Cragen had saved his ass when Ray had grabbed that girl, but he knew Internal Affairs should have been asking questions. He'd thought the shrink in the therapy group had been a moron, but the fact was, the guy had warned him about his rage just weeks before he'd unloaded on Pete Breslin. Even worse than nearly getting himself killed and an innocent young woman raped, was the private knowledge that he'd tried to kill Ray, not with his gun in self-defense, but with his own two hands for the satisfaction of choking the life out of the son of a bitch. The only thing that had stopped him was, not knowing what a manslaughter conviction or a wrongful death suit would do to the people who loved him, but rather, not wanting to give the bastard the satisfaction of proving that he was right about them being so much alike. That whole week of his life was just a dark place he didn't want to visit ever again.

"Elliot, it's ok. You don't have to answer."

But he didn't want to shut down now, didn't want to shut Kathy out. There had to be something he could tell her, something she could stand to hear. Her question had been about the handcuffs. He could talk about that.

"When I was undercover," he began, and paused, gathering his thoughts.

"What about it, El?"

"After I helped the girl escape . . ."

"Yeah?" she coaxed gently.

He closed his eyes as he began to speak, and suddenly he was there, watching Ray Schenkel and himself as if in a dream. "The guy I was after, he got the better of me, knocked me out. I woke up cuffed to the side mirror of the van I was driving. He shoved a gun in my face, right under my chin, cocked it, I knew I was dead, Kath!"

His breath was coming hard and fast, the visceral fear as real and immediate now as it had been in the moment. He struggled to calm himself, taking slow, deep breaths, but the harder he tried, the worse his anxiety became until he felt a familiar touch and heard a soothing voice.

"Elliot," Kathy tried to calm him, "you're safe now. It's ok. Look at me, El. Tell me how you got away."

He obeyed her, opened his eyes, and when he saw the love in her gaze, was able to escape from his nightmare. After a few deep breaths, he was able to speak calmly about the incident once again.

"Fin and Olivia had been tracking me," he said quietly. "When they knew I was in trouble, they called in the choppers. The guy heard them overhead, and left me alone for a minute to check them out. I just about broke my wrist doing it, but I pulled the mirror loose from the van and got to a gun Fin had stashed in it for me. We exchanged some shots, he tried to sneak around behind me, but I out maneuvered him, disarmed and subdued him."

He looked at her shyly and tried a smile, hoping to put her at ease so she wouldn't guess at the other dark, terrifying things he had found inside himself that night.

"I guess, for a moment when you cuffed me to the headboard like that, I panicked a little," he told her.

"Elliot, I'm sorry," Kathy apologized, kissing his cheek and placing a hand on his chest to feel his heart still pounding. "I didn't know."

"No reason you should," he said, looking away, knowing he could explain the fear but not the other emotions she was bound to see in his eyes.

Kathy hesitated a moment, knowing there was something she was missing again. This undercover assignment had really shaken her husband. The first time he'd mentioned it, he'd had a hard time just telling her what had happened. This time, she felt like he was using the events to cover up something else, but she couldn't figure out what and she didn't know whether to push him or not.

"Well, you're safe now," she finally said, mostly to fill the silence, and she moved so that she was straddling him once more. Gently, she began to massage his shoulders, arms, and chest, trying to help him relax. The tension she felt in his muscles and the way he kept his eyes closed spoke of more than fear. She was sure he was hiding something now.

"Mmmmmm . . . that feels good," he sighed and sank back into the pillow, eyes still closed, and a phony smile on his face.

That smile is what made up her mind. She knew he thought he was moving things along, distracting her before she could press him for more information, and she knew what she had to do about it. In the past, she had always let him go thinking he had tricked her somehow, but that strategy had nearly led them to disaster. She knew, tonight had proven, that honesty was the best policy, but she also understood that honesty didn't necessarily mean full disclosure.

She stopped caressing his biceps, rested her hands on his shoulders, and waited. A second or two later, he looked at her. She moved forward, sliding up his torso a little bit, and saw the apprehension flicker in his eyes.

Leaning over, getting her face close to his, she whispered, "I know you're holding out on me."

His eyes grew wide with surprise at being caught.

"But, Kath . . . "

"It's all right. You don't have to tell me everything."

"Kath, I . . . "

She shook her head. "You don't need to explain," she told him. "Just admit it. Admit that there are things . . . you're afraid to tell me, and stop treating me like I'm stupid."

"Kathy, please . . . "

"Hush, El. Listen to me. I'm not angry."

This time, he didn't try to interrupt when she paused. Instead, he thought about what she had said and how she had said it. Her tone hadn't been accusatory or upset, and she had told him it was all right. Surprised that she was willing to let him keep his dark thoughts to himself, he nodded for her to continue.

"I used to let you get away with . . . acting like you had no secrets," she said, "but not anymore. Don't pretend you've told me everything when you haven't. I've learned that there are things you can't talk about, because they affect you too deeply, because you're afraid of how they'll affect me, because they have to do with a case and they're confidential, whatever. But from now on, when there's something you can't tell me, own up to it."

"I never meant to treat you like you're stupid," he said. "I have more respect for you than that, it's just that, sometimes, it's easier not to talk or to pretend there's nothing to say than it is to figure out what to talk about."

"Then tell me that," she told him. "I just want you to be aware of when and why, and how often, you hold things back. You've got to talk to me if we're going to make it, Sweetheart. I know you see and do so much that you don't want to bring home, but El, it comes with you anyway in the way you feel and the way you treat the kids and me. We love you, and we can forgive you if you're sullen and silent once in a while, but when those random nights became weeks and months of silence, you became a stranger to us. You can't let that happen again."

"I never wanted it to happen in the first place."

"I know, Baby," she said compassionately. "But just because it's hard doesn't mean talking about things is a bad idea. If you can't share something, say so, but really consider it before you shrug it off and move on. I didn't marry you so you could take care of me, you know. I married you because I wanted to share a life with you, and life is good _and_ bad. If you're lucky, you have someone to share both."

"Kath, stop." He hushed her with a finger to her lips. "I understand what you are saying. I won't try to play you any more, but I need you to believe me when I tell you this is something I can't talk about yet. What I did frightened me. I'm not talking about the assignment, I mean my behavior."

He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, searching for words to explain feelings that he couldn't even name. "I'm not sure what it means or how I feel about it yet. When I'm ready, I'll talk to my shrink about it, but it's too dark a place for me to pull you in. I don't want to let it touch you. Does that make any sense?"

She looked as if she might cry as she gazed into his eyes, and he wanted to tell her not to, but he knew that on some level, she understood his suffering. If she needed to cry for him, he would let her, and he would do what he could to comfort her. It might do them both some good.

Finally, she kissed him and then lay down on his chest again. When she whispered to him, the words came faintly but clearly, and they lightened his burden tremendously.

"I know that was hard for you," she told him. "I want you to know, no matter what it is, I will always love you. Maybe someday, when you're ready, you can tell me about it, but I already know what kind of man you are. That's why I fell in love, and it's why I'm here now."

Her hands moved to touch him in places only she had been allowed to explore, and though she didn't say it, he knew the game and the conversation were over for the evening.


	7. The Morning After

**Chapter Seven: The Morning After**

Elliot arrived in the squad room the next day with such a spring in his step that it almost seemed as if he were dancing. The humming, something suspiciously close to "That's Amore" if Olivia wasn't mistaken, added to the illusion, and the grin on his face and the sparkle in his eyes told her she had done the right thing. He was carrying a box from their favorite bakery in his hands, and the wonderful odors emanating from it told her the donuts were still warm and the coffee was scalding hot.

"Good morning, gorgeous!" he said taking a small bag out of his box and plonking it on her desk as he handed her a cup of coffee. "One crueller, one chocolate glazed with coconut, and the coffee has cream and two sugars."

"Thank you!" Liv grinned, suspecting that she had some idea of what had made him so cheerful.

He continued humming as he breezed past her desk, box in hand, and delivered similar treats to Fin and Munch. Then he went over to the coffee machine where he sat a dozen glazed donuts for the rest of their colleagues before delivering a goodie bag to their captain's office.

As he returned to the squad room and headed toward his desk, Munch swiveled in his chair to ask, "Who are you and what have you done with Detective Stabler?"

Elliot stopped and frowned for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"Clearly someone has abducted our colleague and replaced him with an operative who is compulsively, disgustingly, offensively . . . "

"Cheerful," Fin supplied when John paused to search for the right word.

"Chipper!" Liv kicked in.

"Ebullient," John decided, having to outdo them both as if it were vocabulary competition.

Elliot sighed contentedly and tried for a moment to stop grinning like a jackass, but he couldn't help himself. So, he just said enigmatically, "Never underestimate the healing powers of a quiet night in."

Olivia turned away from the guys and shoved half her crueller in her mouth to prevent adding, 'or getting laid' to his statement. As Elliot came to sit across from her, she pretended to be absorbed in the file she was working on to keep from laughing at him. Naturally, she was pleased that Kathy's plan had worked so well, but he was acting like a big, goofy kid in love, and it was so _not_ like the Elliot she knew that she couldn't help being amused.

By the time she was actually focused on her report again, he was humming once more, something she recognized from the seventies, and even worse, or better, depending on how you looked at it, very softly singing a few lines of the lyrics now and then.

_We spent the whole night talkin'.  
You said you'd like to see the sunrise,  
But in the gold of mornin'  
Was nothin' I had not seen in your eyes.  
Hm-mmm-mm-mmmm  
I was so afraid to touch you,  
Thought you were too young too know,  
So, I just watched you sleepin'.  
Then, you woke and said to me  
The night is cold  
It frightens me,  
And I could sleep so easy next to you._

_Daah-dahdahdahdahDa-ah, dah-dah_

_Hm-Hmm-Hmm-Hmm-Hm-Hm-Hmm-mm-hmm _

Olivia really tried to concentrate on her work, but her partner was making it impossible. Finally, she put the folder down, gave up all pretense of reading, and watched him. It took perhaps a minute for him to notice the attention he was receiving, and when he looked up, all he could say was, "What?"

She had intended to just tell him to be quiet, but there he was, smiling happily at her, oblivious of the joy that was just rolling off him in waves, and she couldn't bear to burst that bubble, so she complimented him instead.

"I never knew you had such a great singing voice," she said.

"Oh, sorry," he blushed.

She smiled. "It's all right."

"Oh, hey, how was your dinner with Richard?" he inquired. "Sorry I didn't ask sooner."

"It was nice," she told him, "thanks for asking." It wasn't really a lie. She and her current boyfriend had enjoyed a pleasant evening of Chinese takeout and a movie at his place when she had called him at the last minute and found he was free. Then, though she wasn't being completely honest with her partner, she couldn't resist letting him know she had caught him in a fib. "How was the steak?"

"Great!" he said. "And she made baked potatoes and tiramisu. It was . . . really . . . nice." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and leaned toward her as if to scrutinize her more carefully. She winked, and he sat back in surprise. Then he looked surreptitiously around, and seeing that no one was paying them any attention, jerked his head in the direction of the main entrance to the squad room.

Out in the hall he and Olivia sat side-by-side on the wide windowsill watching the people come and go. It was the perfect place for a private conversation because no one walking past could eavesdrop without stopping, and as long as they kept their voices low, people waiting for the elevator wouldn't overhear them.

"You know, four or five years ago we sat right here and you told me I would lose everything if I didn't stop shutting people out, do you remember that?" he asked.

Olivia gave it some thought and then nodded. "Yeah. I was worried that you or Kathy was having an affair."

"Well, you were wrong about the affair, but I did lose everything," he said.

"I know," Liv replied sympathetically. It had hurt her to see how much he had suffered over the past year, and she knew, no matter what happened between him and Kathy, Elliot would never forget that pain. It could be a good thing for them or a bad thing, depending on how he handled it. If they succeeded in getting back together, she hoped he would do the smart thing and use it to remind him of how lucky he was to have his wife and family.

"I think you know who was at the house when I got home last night," he told her.

"Yeah."

He cast her a sideways glance and asked, "How long have you two been in cahoots?"

"She called me the first time about a month after you'd been shot to ask how you were doing, and I told her the truth, that you were healing physically but that emotionally, it was anybody's guess."

"And?"

Liv shrugged. "And she called two or three more times after that, just to check on you. I finally told her to talk to you because I wasn't comfortable with going behind your back. I didn't hear from her again until she called last night to tell me she was waiting for you at home. All I did was make sure you got there. So, how did it go?"

Suddenly he was beaming like a teenager in love again. "It went really well," he said. "We're gonna try one more time, but we're keeping it a secret for now. We don't want to get the kids' hopes up too soon, just in case we screw it up again."

Liv nodded. "I won't say a word," she promised, "but you're gonna have to do something about the grinning and the singing real fast or other people are gonna start asking questions."

He laughed a little and said, "Yeah, I know, but as soon as we get another case, I think that will change."

"I suppose so," she replied. Their job was always stressful and often very sad. Soon enough, he wouldn't have anything to sing about.

"You know, I'll have my twenty in later this year," he told her.

Olivia just nodded. He had pulled rank on her a couple of times in the past, most notably when he had gone behind her back and requested a protective detail because Eric Plummer, a wrongly convicted suspect from one of her old cases, was stalking her, but usually they worked as equal partners and his seniority had no bearing on their relationship. Suddenly alert, she narrowed her eyes and looked at him.

"Is there a reason you're telling me that?" she asked.

He sighed and turned to look out the window. It was raining lightly and he traced the path of a water droplet all the way down to the sill before he answered.

"I haven't mentioned it to Kathy yet. It all depends on how things go from here, but if I have to choose between my job and my family . . . "

He swallowed audibly and took a deep breath before continuing.

"I made the wrong choice once before, Liv," he said quietly. "I'm not gonna screw it up again."

Olivia turned to watch the rain with him, cleared the frog from her throat, and said, "If it comes to that, I'll miss you, but my voice will be the loudest one telling you to take your pension and get out. Just don't look at it as all or nothing, ok?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, SVU is a really tough assignment, especially if you want a personal life. That's why it's an all-volunteer squad. You could transfer to homicide or some other unit, work cold cases, or try for a promotion to captain."

He laughed. "With my discipline record?"

"I didn't say it wouldn't be a long shot," she teased him. "But seriously, El, I'll stand behind you, no matter what you decide to do."

He nodded and smiled his appreciation. Then, they stood there quietly for a long moment. Olivia sensed there was something more her partner wanted to say, but he seemed strangely reluctant to speak. She watched him expectantly, but when he looked up and caught her gaze, he looked away again.

"Elliot, what is it?"

For a split second, a wild jumble of surreal scenes tumbled through is mind. Heimagined himself and Olivia making out in the sedan, of all places, and that was shattered by a vision of himselfroaring down the highway on a Harley leaving his whole world behind. Then his wife and kids were in the living room, waiting for him to come through the door. He closed his eyes to enjoy thatpicture privately for a bit, and he smiled.

"Elliot?"

He spent a few more seconds at home with his family, and then he sighed wistfully and looked at her. He held Olivia's gaze for a long while, hoping she could read the gratitude and affection in his eyes. Then he gave her a small smile and simply said, "Thank you."

She looked at him in confusion for a moment, and then seeing the hope and happiness in his eyes, she grinned and said, "You're welcome."

He jerked his head in the direction of the squad room and said, "Come on, let's get back to work."


End file.
